The Pitter-Patter (er, goosestep) of Little Feet

The big day is just over two weeks away.

With Wedding preparations going smoothly (almost too smooth), it is almost fait accompli in most of our family & friends' eyes.

Talk then centered first on our honeymoon (Boston & Worcester, and New York), then inevitably onto children.

As I've mentioned before, we're planning on having a few kids (again, as previously mentioned, we've already named the first four)... doin' that big ol' Catholic family thing.

Discussions among our respective coworkers couldn't be more different;  Jillian's coworkers have a pool going, taking bets on how long after the Wedding it'll take for us to get pregnant.  Mine are taking bets to see when the first of our children is arrested on terrorism charges.

I an only imagine getting a call from their elementary school...

Principal:  Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, this is Principal Oakley at Good Shepherd Elementary.  We have a bit of a problem.

CJ: Oh?  What have they done this time?!

Principal:  It appears little Rachel and Siobhan have taken over the gymnasium again and are holding their teacher and classmates hostage.  We'd like you to come in as a negotiator.

CJ: We don't negotiate with terrorists!  I did warn you, at our last parent-teacher meeting, about making them jump rope.  You know damned well they see the skipping rope as a symbol of male oppression...

All kidding aside, it seems as though everyone has ideas and suggestions in regards to child-rearing.  Everyone has advice on what to do, and what to expect.  My usual response is a condescending look and a curt "Remember, these are mine & Jill's kids we're speaking of," at which point the person giving me advice has a frightened look of realization come across their face.

If you've been following my online missives over the last twenty years, you'll know I'm not exactly... er.. sane.  I'm given to bouts of distemper, megalomania, outright sociopathy, and occasional cartoon supervilliany.  I've been studying war and warfare throughout the ages, enjoy a good PsyOps exploit, and I used to leave a copy of the CIA Field Interrogation Manual on my desk when interviewing potential new employees.

Jillian was crowned Canadian Debating Champion in high school (for your own sake, don't ever call her a "master debater"), is as stubborn as I am, and also has a mean streak a mile wide.  She's also tough as nails.

To top it off, we're both fucking brilliant.

My office mates and I were talking about kids today... and the end of the conversation went something like this:

Boss:  (singing "The Wheels on the Bus")... You knooow, it's only a matter of time 'til you start singing these songs..!

CJ: My children will hear no such thing.

Boss:  Ooooh, I'm sure they wiiiillll...

CJ:  Not if I have anything to say about it.

Boss:  You'll be watching Barney the purple dinosaur before you know it!

CJ:  Fuck that!  My idea of quality children's programming is Al-Jazeera!

The boss was speechless.

(to be continued...)


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